


The Fullness of Life

by FieryPen37



Series: Held Captive [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Feastday, Held Captive verse, Married Couple, Married Sex, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24573112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FieryPen37/pseuds/FieryPen37
Summary: Jon and Daenerys enjoy a feast after their coronation
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Held Captive [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1043267
Comments: 30
Kudos: 155





	The Fullness of Life

The Fullness of Life

His wife was a radiant creature. Daenerys Stormborn, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Jon hadn’t believed his eyes as she scaled the steps to join him on dais in the great hall for their coronation. A bloody goddess. So beautiful it hurt his eyes. And this woman, dragonrider and queen, lover and friend, was truly his? Some days, Jon half-expected to be kicked awake from this beautiful dream, and still be a lonely bastard on the Wall with nothing and no one.

“Wine, Your Grace?” a young southron squire asked, his voice softened by a Reacher accent.

“Ale, please,” Jon said, offering a gilt cup studded with garnets. The squire poured. Thick, brown ale. Jon drank deeply, the ale brown and rich, almost thick enough to chew. Gods, nothing bested a northern ale. It was his third—or was it fourth?—cup, and he was feeling flushed and serene. Laughter and joy bubbled in his blood.

The high table held their counselors and Kingsguard. From his vantage point, he watched the raucous feasting of half a dozen peoples. The music of tambor and lute and pipes competed with a din of a thousand voices. It warmed the heart to see the Dothraki share battle tales with Westerosi, freed slaves drink wine alongside silk and velvet clad lords. He spied Robb, his plastered leg elevated on silken pillows, his head in Rosalin’s lap as she fed him sweetmeats. Sansa and Willas sat with their heads together as Willas strummed a lyre. Love was plain on both their faces. Rickon sat gravy-spattered with rushes clinging to his fine tunic between Shaggydog and Grey Wind. Rahkaro stood on the table and used a hand to mimic an _arakh_ as he spun a tale.

Jon glanced half-shyly at his wife, gloriously beautiful as she was. Her eyes looked bluer, deeper with the black on her lashes. And her lips, painted red as blood . . . his own blood heated and pooled in his groin. Jon shifted, his tight leather trousers growing tighter still.

“It is all you wished, love?” he said, clearing his throat. Daenerys gifted him with a long, drinking look, eyes shining. Gods, she was sweet as a song. So bewitching was she that the word startled him: “No.”

“No?” Jon repeated, blinking owlishly. His fist tightened on the arm of his chair. Whatever was amiss, he would right it. Perhaps thoughts of the pretender troubled her, though the Blackfyre languished in the blackest of cells. Cryptic, she promised she had ‘plans’ for his execution. It would wait until their babe was born.

“It’s better than I could have dreamed,” Daenerys said, cupping the swell of her belly. Jon’s throat closed. He covered her hand with his own, cupping their child as it slept. The image blurred. Tears too simmered close to the surface when the ale took him.

“Aye, you’ve the right of it, my queen,” he said hoarsely. Jon leaned close to steal a kiss. Worried about smudging her paint, he kissed her cheek, warm and silken beneath his lips. When he pulled back, Daenerys gave an endearing pout.

“Do I not please you, my lord husband?”

Jon grinned, not fooled by the exaggerated innocence of her expression. Jon stroked the inside of her first finger, a grazing touch full of promise.

“You know it well that you do. I’d happily show you, but I’m afraid you’ll smudge.” One thick brow arched.

“Smudge?”

“Your paint. You look so _beautiful_ ,” Jon said, twining a strand of her silver hair around his finger. A decision hardened in her eyes.

“Come, Jon,” she said, heaving to her feet. Jon followed, nonplussed. He righted his stumble just in time. It wouldn’t do for the people to see their king in his cups, shades of Robert Baratheon. Women’s moods were a mystery, pregnant women even moreso. Daenerys had once woken in the middle of the night craving liver and onions so strongly she rousted him from bed to wake the cook. Arya looked up from her conversation with Gendry, a question in her grey eyes.

“Enjoy the feast, little sister. The queen needs a moment’s respite,” Jon said, his hand sliding to the small of Daenerys’ back. Arya grinned.

“Just shout if you fall down the garderobe,” she said. Jon chuckled, following Daenerys up the winding stair.

From the great hall, there was nothing of note up this way save a few council chambers. Daenerys led him into an alcove. The silence throbbed in his ears after the din of the hall, the air cool and sweet, the half-darkness peaceful. A lone torch smoldered in its sconce. Jon twined his arms around Daenerys from behind, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Are your feet paining you, love? Shall I--” Daenerys twisted to face him and silenced him with a kiss. Jon’s words melted into a moan. Mmm, her sweet lips, plump and sweet like fruit. He loved to suck and bite them. Their tongues tangled in a sweet, wet dance. He nipped her lower lip as they peeled back to breathe. His cock throbbed in his trousers, his balls aching as they had since the first moment he saw her in the throne room.

“Dany,” he said, the ache of longing plain in his voice.

“I am yours, Jon. Yours to _smudge_. Yours to talk to, to laugh with, to kiss and fuck and love,” Daenerys said. The sound that left him was inarticulate, an animal’s pining song for his mate. Emotion welled up from deep within, touched and roused by turns.

“I love you. I love you so _much_ ,” he said, hands pawing at crumpled handfuls of her silks. Daenerys kissed him again, searing him with passion. In a dizzying move, she slid to her knees. Jon staggered, moaning as she struggled with the lacings of his trousers.

“Yesss, oh yes love. _Please_ ,” he whispered. His cock sprang free, hot and throbbing in her grip. Jon swayed on his feet, his hands scrabbled for purchase in her hair. His trousers pooled around his knees. Her pink tongue painted him from root to tip, slick and soft. Again and again, licking him like he was her favorite treat. The pleasure stole his breath. In the light of torch, she made for a lurid sight. Braids tumbling down, eyes wide and hungry, red lips stretched around his cockhead. Gods, her _mouth_ . . .

“Take me, love. Suck me,” Jon said, petting her head gently. Daenerys obeyed, taking him deep. He groaned, tipping his back as she took a deep, tight rhythm. Pleasure gathered hot and white at the base of his spine.

“ _Dany_!”

Jon yelped at her pinch on his thigh, then chuckled at her wicked smile. He blessed her for the pinch, it distracted him enough to keep him from spilling in her mouth. 

“Hush, my love,” she hissed, the puff of her breath on his balls making him ache. Jon nudged his hips closer, eager for more. Daenerys gripped him, diving into _more_. Gods, the smooth heat of her mouth, the caress of her tongue . . . Jon lost himself in it. Soon he was thrusting shallowly into her mouth, panting with each sweet stroke. Her hands kneaded his buttocks, teasing the crease with her littlest finger. The sensation was odd, but very pleasurable.

“More,” he moaned, petting her hair. That wicked finger teased his hole, easing in and out in a shallow rhythm. It felt dirty and rousing at once. Pleasure boiled up thick and hot in his balls.

“Love, I’m . . . oh gods!” he cried as he came in spurts. Daenerys drank it down. Jon shivered, dragging her up to embrace her. The swell of her belly nestled between them, the slowing pound of his heart loud in his ears, Jon pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you. Come, wife. Let’s seek our bed.”

Leaning on each other, he and Daenerys made their way through the serpentine halls of the Red Keep, Storm-Son and Grey Worm following at a respectful distance. Their suite of rooms was a cool, quiet solace from the raucous celebration below. Moths danced around a brace of candles; the canopied bed was turned down. The terrace doors were shut, moonlight pared to latticed diamonds. Jon shucked off his tunic and under-tunic in one move and toed out of his boots. The smooth expanse of his bolster’s clean linen beckoned Jon’s spinning head.

“Help me, my love?” Daenerys asked, taking her ease on one of the stools. Cursing himself for not thinking to help her, Jon knelt at her feet, peeling off the doeskin slippers, embroidered with seed pearls. The shoes dug cruelly into her swollen feet. He made a low sound of sympathy, kneading the sole of her foot with both hands. Daenerys groaned, slouching down in her chair.

“Better, Dany?” Jon asked. She nodded, gesturing for him to continue. It was much like helping her with her armor. There was a dance to the shedding of layers. First the jewelry set aside with care, then the arduous mess of hooks and laces and ties that anchored her in the dress. Meanwhile Daenerys unbound her hair, letting it fall in a silken silver wave down her back.

“Fuck,” Jon said as he peeled the muslin shift from her body, leaving her at last gloriously naked. Beautiful. From her hair to the bulge of her belly to her swollen toes, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And, was that . . .?

“Gods, Dany what did you do?” Jon said, laying a wondering hand on her lower belly, just above the hairless mound of her sex.

“Do you like it? It’s an Essosi custom. I thought it would be . . . stimulating,” she said, almost shyly. Jon knelt, staring at her cunt, plucked bare. He stroked the skin gently; it was the same silky softness of her inner thighs. The soft pink secrets of her cunt laid bare, the bud of her pearl beckoning. He could smell her, musky-sweet and intoxicating as the ale he drank. Jon’s mouth filled with water.

“Fuck yes, Dany. You’re so fucking beautiful. Lie down. Let me take care of you,” Jon said.

Daenerys lay on their bed, gleaming in the candlelight like the goddess she was. Tears pricked his eyes again. What had he done to deserve her? Jon pried her thighs wide, nuzzling her lower lips. A taste found her soft and wet already. _Fuck_. Jon lapped at her, first broad strokes, then pointed ones, back and forth, up and around that sweet pearl of flesh. Daenerys whimpered, clutching handfulsa of sheet. The mound of her pregnant belly made it difficult for her to clench his hair as was her habit. He measured her reaction instead by her sweet little whimpers, by the thrusts of her hips as he sucked on her pearl.

“Jon!” she cried, shuddering against his face with a soft cry.

“Yes!” Jon hissed, diving deeper. Sloppy and hungry, he fucked her with his tongue, pressing her pearl with his nose until she arched up again. Arousal pounded with his heartbeat, loud in his ears.

“Come here, Jon. I want you. I want you in me,” Daenerys said, squirming under his grip. Snarling, Jon flipped her on her belly. He smoothed a hand up her back.

“Are you well, my love?” he purred, pressing a string of kisses on the small of her back. Daenerys arched back, eager for him.

“Yes. Yes, take me, Jon. Fuck me,” she said.

Jon could only obey his queen. He slid in with a groan. Such a delicious naked immediacy to it, her lower lips smooth and slick. His rhythm was slow and careful. Sometimes fierce fucking was too much with the babe in her belly. Gods, he took a primal pride in that. Any man who looked at her would know she was his, his queen, his wife, his mate. Fucked full of his seed and ripe with his child. Jon smoothed his hands up her back, fisting a handful of her hair, tugging gently. The other hand cupped her soft, naked mound, teasing her pearl. Gods. So perfect. Her cunt drove him nearly mad with lust. Daenerys panted and thrashed and bit the pillow beneath him, hot and tight. Her walls fluttered around him as she tumbled over the edge. Jon picked up the pace with deeper thrusts. Words fell from his lips, half-coherent praise.

“Gods, I love you Daenerys. Love you. So good . . . its so good to fuck you. Let me do it forever. Let me love you and ride you and fuck you full. I’ll give you as many babes as you want.”

“Yes! Gods, yes. Jon. Jon. Jon, love you!” she cried, braced on her elbows as he moved in her. Jon curved over her back, nibbling her ear as his fingers urged her to another peak.

“Come for me, love. Now. Now!” Jon said, fighting the tide of his own release. Daenerys moaned, tightening around him as she came. The pleasure twisted cruel inside him, and he spent inside her. Together they rode out the delicious echoes, falling sweaty and sated together on the mattress. Jon dragged the coverlet over them as Daenerys nestled her head on his chest. He breathed deep of the sweet silence, sighing as Dany pressed kisses to his shoulder and neck. Sleep beckoned. Wrapped up with his wife, Jon couldn’t think of a single thing to make his life better.

It was good to be king. 


End file.
